


Some Kind of Magic

by ElenaCee



Series: Devil's Trap [5]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Non-Graphic Smut, Past Self-Inflicted Amputation, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-03 05:30:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10236926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElenaCee/pseuds/ElenaCee
Summary: Chloe asks Lucifer what it is he truly desires. The answer comes as a bit of a surprise.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Fic contains fluff in tooth-rotting amounts. Also, please note the absence of any plot-related tag.  
> Warning for Chapter 2: Descriptions of past wing amputation.  
> Warning for Chapter 3: Fluff. And smut without any actual smut.

It wasn’t fair. Lucifer was not being fair to himself. Or so Chloe was convinced.

And wasn’t that a strange thought; being convinced that Satan, the Devil incarnate, the quintessential narcissist, might be acting so selflessly that he was, in effect, damnifying himself? Especially if said selflessness concerned sex, something so intrinsically linked to sin and temptation and everything he stood for that it should be the last thing he should be denying himself?

The strangeness of those thoughts didn’t keep her from having them, though. It was the only explanation she could find.

Thing was, when it came to sex between them,  _ she  _ was never left anything other than completely sated, blissed out, delirious with pleasure. Whatever the expression, it applied to her. Every night they spent together was the best night of her life. Everything they did in bed (or on other available surfaces) was about her, her wishes, her desires, her hidden kinks (and there were indeed a few), her unrealized fantasies. Hard and fast, or slow and gentle, or drawn out, or quick; Lucifer somehow knew what she needed and gave it to her when she needed it, unfailingly.

Whenever she tried to do something for him, though, he would somehow end up doing something for her. And, what was maybe worst, whenever she felt like she was sexed out and done for the night, he would just stop, no matter whether he himself might have gone on (he probably could; after all, he wasn’t human), no matter whether he was truly spent or not.

It wasn’t fair. She was getting more out of this, their thing, than he was. Or so she was convinced.

Eventually, she got so worried that he might be left unsatisfied in their relationship that she decided to broach the subject. After all, if he could find the courage to work at their thing, to communicate, to talk about unpleasant secrets, then so could she.

They were in Chloe’s apartment, behind a locked door. Trixie had decided to investigate “suspicious sounds” coming from her mother’s bedroom at some point during the last night they had spent here, and Chloe had no wish for a repeat performance (not to mention Maze’s propensity to find entertainment in strange places. It didn’t help that Lucifer had no hangups whatsoever and certainly didn’t mind an audience.) Gymnastics would have to be kept to a minimum tonight, so maybe this wasn’t the best time, but Chloe found she couldn’t wait any longer.

No-nudity-rule firmly in place in deference to her little monkey, they were snuggled up together in her bed. Lucifer was holding her in his arms, drawing intricate designs onto her back. They had discussed unicorns (“no, they don’t exist, Detective, that’s actually a mistranslation from the Latin ‘uni cornus’, meaning cow”), the necessity of temptation (“as I remember it, Eden was a very boring place; how’s that supposed to build character?”), and Trixie’s next school assignment on Archangels (“Michael’s an arse. That’s all I’ll say on the subject. Get her to talk about me”).

Figuring that, considering how mellow the Devil was right now, this was actually a good time for it, Chloe decided to jump into the breach.

“Lucifer,” she said, leaning over him so she could look into his eyes, “I’d like to ask you something.”

“Of course,” he said readily, giving her the genuine smile she liked to think was reserved just for her.

“It’s a little bit personal,” she warned him.

“Ooh,” he purred. “That sounds exciting.”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“Positively exhilarating, now. Do go on.” His smile was morphing into his more familiar gleeful Devil grin.

“Right. If I had your drawing-out-desires power -”

“The one that doesn’t work on you,” he interjected.

“Exactly. That one.” She leaned over and kissed him, because it was impossible not to kiss that grin. “Uh, so if I had that power, and provided it works on you, and I would ask you…”

He turned more serious. “Yes…?”

“... to tell me what I can do for you that would really, really make you happy. Something that you truly desire. That I can reasonably do. Not necessarily here and now, because Trixie proximity alert. But generally, for me to keep in mind. Something you wish for. That I can do for you to make you happy, that would really mean something to you. You know, no matter how crazy.” She realized she was babbling and stopped herself. “What would you tell me?”

He was looking at her out of enormous eyes. “You mean, what can you do for me beyond being someone who tolerates my presence despite knowing what I am, someone whom I can trust implicitly, someone who chooses to be with me over much safer and more reasonable options, and who will even allow me to share carnal relations with her?”

She felt herself blush, because how could she not? His love for her shone from every word, as did his incredulity, even after all this time. “Yeah,” she said, forcing the words out. “I feel like I’m not holding up my end here, Lucifer. I feel like you keep doing me favors and not getting an equivalent value in return. That I’m not… that I don’t satisfy you.”

He looked offended on her behalf. “That most certainly is not so. Sex with you is a revelation. Each touch from you is ecstasy. If I were any more satisfied, I’d be comatose.”

She peered at him. He wasn’t lying, that was one thing she could be sure of. But he had admitted himself that he didn’t always tell the whole truth. “Okay. But, please. Tell me. Tell me one thing you truly desire when we’re together. Something that’s not about me. Something that may be missing that I can do for you.”

He gave her a small smile and looked away.

She felt her heart sink. So there really was something she wasn’t doing for him. A lack she hadn’t addressed.

What could it be? Would it be something that she’d be uncomfortable with? Considering his enormous sexual experience, maybe the sex with her was too vanilla for him? She’d certainly be willing to experiment more if that was what he wanted. Maybe he needed more than one person in bed to be really satisfied? Would she be able to do that for him, if it was something he truly needed? Or maybe he was into hardcore SM stuff? He was vulnerable in her presence; maybe he wanted her to hurt him? If so, could she do that, could she deliberately hurt him if that was his desire? How far would she be willing to go to please him?

She noticed that he was looking at her with a slight frown. “This is upsetting you, Detective. I suggest we don’t pursue this line of questioning.”

“No, no,” she said quickly, “it’s okay. I asked. I need to know.”

He sighed. “All right. This will probably sound strange to you.”

She braced herself. Whatever he’d say now, she’d try to keep an open mind. “Okay.”

“I’m only telling you this since you asked. It’s completely ridiculous. My reputation will never recover if it gets out.”

“Lucifer, just tell me. Please. I mean, if… you want to. You don’t have to.”

“No, I do want to tell you now, but you have to promise you won’t laugh at me. Or tell Maze.”

Laugh at him? Somehow, it wasn’t sounding like Lucifer was about to confess to some dark SM fantasy anymore. “I promise,” Chloe said, now really curious.

He drew a breath. “Right. You do this occasionally, briefly, but I’ve never told you what it means to me. I find myself thinking about it. It… does things to me nothing else does, and I mean nothing - not sex, not drugs. I did try to replicate it. I even tried doing it for myself, but for some reason, that doesn’t work. It must be some kind of magic if you do it.”

She blinked, now completely lost. “What…?”

“You touch my face sometimes. Like this.” He raised his hand and placed it along the side of her face, with his palm on her jaw and his fingers covering the whole half of her face.

It felt nice, warm, tender, but otherwise nothing special.

Her expression must have shown her incomprehension, because he looked away. “I told you it was strange.”

“No, no.” She reached out and turned his head back to her. “Don’t. It’s just not… what I was expecting.” And since her hand already was in the vicinity, she put it fully onto his face and her fingers into the positions he had just shown her. “Like this?”

He let his head fall back against the pillow, eyes closing, mouth opening. He looked... sexual, yet all she was doing was touch his face. “Yes,” he breathed. “Like this. Just… like this.”

Still not quite understanding, she kept her hand where it was, stroking her fingers over his temple, her thumb over his mouth. His breathing turned ragged. Like he was in pain. Suddenly unsure, she slowed her movements, but he turned his face into her hand, deepening the contact, his fast breath brushing hot against her palm.

“Don’t stop,” he gasped. “Please.”

Finally, she thought she got it. This, just this gentle touch whose only purpose was to convey love and affection, was obviously something he’d experienced only very rarely during his long existence, and probably never during the countless millennia he had ruled over Hell for. She doubted whether any of his innumerable lovers here on the earthly plane had ever thought to just caress him like this during the passion of their sexual encounters. She didn’t even think that he’d known this kind of affection back when he was still in Heaven, eons ago.

No, this was clearly new to him. New, and powerful, and maybe even slightly terrifying because of it.

She threaded her free hand underneath his nape, grounding him between her two hands, stroking the warm skin and fine hairs there while she kept the fingers of her other hand moving, and her heart was breaking for him.

She’d been right - it wasn’t fair to him. Just not for the reason she’d suspected.

“It’s not strange,” she whispered. “The only thing that’s strange is that this should be your deepest desire. This shouldn’t be anything special. You shouldn’t even have to ask for it. You should be used to it, like everyone is used to it. You should just take it for granted, like everyone else does.” She leaned down and kissed him, never ceasing her stroking, silently vowing to him to only stop after he’d had enough, when he was finally full-fed.

After eons of neglect, who knew how much of this he might need. This would probably take a while, but she would be patient.

His ragged, open-mouthed breathing was starting to calm slightly, but his eyes remained closed and his expression ecstatic. She increased the pressure of her fingers, both of the hand at his nape, carding through his hair and gently massaging his scalp, and of the hand on his face, fanning her fingers over his forehead and eyebrows, back and forth, slowly, hypnotically, changing up the touches ever so slightly. He pressed his open lips against her palm, still seeking more, so she gave him more, hoping to make up for lost time, glad that he was still receptive enough to know that he needed it. Happy to be able to fill a vessel that had stood empty too long without even knowing what it was missing.

How easily he could have lost this sensitivity, this need, how easily he might have become hardened in the fires of Hell, and truly turned into a monster!

But he hadn’t. Each slight shiver, each halting breath fairly screamed one thing above all others - how much he needed to be loved like this.

After a while, she switched hands on his nape and face, adjusting her position, getting more comfortable. However long it might take, she wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t do that to him; take this simple touch away after he’d just learned to appreciate how good it felt, especially since it was so easy for her to give it.

Shouldn’t she have realized that this would be his wish? The signs had been there all along, but she’d been blinded by oh-my-God-I’m-sleeping-with-the-Devil and by her own fears of inadequacy. Shouldn’t she have realized that it had never truly been about the sex for him, despite his constant flirting and innuendos? Shouldn’t she have realized what his hesitance meant whenever it came to non-sexual physical affection, like hugs, and like this simple touch? This, this was what he had really needed without knowing he needed it. Not empty pleasure, but the difference between a meaningless sexual encounter and a meeting of lovers.

“Would you like me to do that to your true face?” she dared ask after another long while had passed.

His eyes flew open. They were rimmed with wetness. “Would you?” he forced out.

She smiled, feeling her lips tremble. “Of course.” Anything. He deserved anything, she would do anything, if only it proved to him that he was loved.

He made a sound that was half sob and half sigh. His eyes closed, and he shifted, his angel glamour melting away to reveal the Devil.

She kept her hands where they were, now feeling inhumanly smooth, hot skin, instinctively lightening her touch because she still couldn’t shake how raw he looked. And hurting him, even inadvertently, was anathema.

He gasped, and gasped again, and a shudder went through him.

“Okay?” she asked, worried she was causing him pain after all.

He shuddered again, but one of his hands rose to touch hers, telling her where words failed him that this was what he wanted, still.

So she kept going, stroking him gently, so very gently, while he shivered and gasped under her touch, tears leaking out of his closed eyes and running down the sides of his face.

It became too much for him after just a few minutes. Shifting back with a groan, he buried his face against her neck, and she held him while he fought for composure.

_ No one, _ she thought.  _ No one ever touched the Devil with tenderness, until me. How is this fair? _

“You’ll get used to it,” she promised him.

“I doubt it,” he whispered, his lips brushing her neck.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

He chortled brokenly. “I believe you.”

They fell silent after that. Chloe put one hand back onto his face, the first of many times she swore to herself she’d do it for him unprompted. He turned his head into her hand like before with a small sigh of pleasure, and she felt another pang in her chest.

_ However much of this you need, Lucifer. I swear. _

It took almost another hour, but finally, he no longer sought out her touch with such desperation and simply lay, enjoying it the way he was supposed to, the way anyone else might. She kept stroking him, easing off on the pressure more and more, slowing her movements, until at last, he was asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

“Lucifer,” Chloe said later that same week, “may I touch your scars?”

It had taken her a while to make up her mind about whether she should go ahead and ask him this. His reaction when she had first touched them was still fresh in her mind, no matter how long ago that had been. When it happened, she had received her first inkling about how deep his waters truly ran, her first glimpse at the profound vulnerability he was hiding underneath his polished exterior of brazen confidence. It had affected her deeply, and she had resolved there and then to never ask him about them or ever touch them again if she could help it.

But much had changed since then. She liked to think that she had learned to help him in so many ways. He might never ask her this outright, but maybe this was another thing she could do for him to help him heal?

They were in his penthouse, both still naked following their latest excursion into what Lucifer liked to call ‘carnal relations’, snuggling on the couch, surrounded by blankets and pillows. To Chloe’s delight, the Devil had eased into his new role of being a cuddler without the constant need to reaffirm his badassness (which was, in Chloe’s opinion, a given) and was holding her in his arms, running one hand up and down her back, while she was carding her fingers through his hair, hoping to make him purr.

At her question, Lucifer moved so he could look into her eyes, tilting his head to one side and giving her his rare true smile. “You, Detective, have exclusive and unrestricted access to the entirety of my person at all times.”

This, in view of the things she had just done to him and his reactions to them, made Chloe blush and her mind descend straight into the gutter. “Really.”

“Hmhm.” His smile turned impish. “Including everywhere you can reach.”

This proved that he was thinking about the same things. Everywhere she could reach, indeed. “You would let me do to you… what I did earlier… right in the middle of the precinct,” she clarified. “In front of everyone.”

His breathing grew deeper and his eyes darker as he held her gaze. “Oh yes.”

The thought was turning her on, too, which should be impossible, considering the athletics of the past few hours. Maybe his insatiability was beginning to rub off on her.

But she refused to let herself get sidetracked. She was on a mission, after all. “I’ll keep it in mind,” she merely said, using her ‘enough with this crap’ cop voice.

He snorted. “As if.”

Shuffling and moving herself and his bigger body in her arms until she could comfortably reach his back, she began by running a hand up and down his spine, avoiding the twin scars next to it for the moment.

He sighed, going limp, arching his back into her touch slightly whenever she reached the area right between the scars, his shoulders just barely moving forward at the same time on each pass of her hand.

At first, she thought he was doing it to deepen the contact of her hand against his spine, but when she lingered between the scars, slowly stroking him there, he held the pose, shoulders hunched forward, back arched slightly, making a sound of pleasure. It almost looked like a reflex.

“Ohh, this brings back memories,” he sighed before she could ask him about it.

Then it clicked. She was stroking him between his wings. Or between where his wings had been.

He sighed again, and she repeated the touch a few more times, just to make him stretch like this again and again, trying to imagine what he had looked like with those gorgeous white wings on his back, and what that movement he was making would have made them do. Stretch them? Flap them? Curl them around himself like a curtain?

Still, she was hesitant to ask him. He had cut them off. Clearly, not all memories connected with them were good ones. He must have wanted them gone for a reason.

But he had given her permission to touch his body whenever and wherever she liked. Maybe that permission extended to his mind? And wasn’t that remark about bringing back memories an invitation of sorts?

“Does this feel good?” she asked, continuing to pet him there.

“Almost as good as sex,” he purred, tightening his arms around her and rubbing his face against her neck. “Do go on.”

She did, finding that it must really be a reflex of sorts, since he never failed to repeat the flex whenever her hand reached that spot between his scars.

He sighed in pleasure. “Almost makes me want to have them back. I bet you touching them would feel amazing.”

“Why did you cut them off?” she asked, now feeling like permission to be nosy was definitely granted.

He snorted. “Grand gesture, mostly. They were Dad’s most precious gift to me, well, to all of us, really. Power of flight and healing, of traveling between planes, symbol of divinity. Too powerful for mortals to even look at without going mad, etcetera, etcetera. I had Maze cut them off to spit in His face, essentially. Flip Him the bird. Tell Him where to shove it. And then I burned them to let Him know in no uncertain terms that it’s final. I’m never going back to Hell.” His voice had become louder, and he was tensing up with the memory of that moment.

Chloe curled her free arm around his neck to be able to place her hand on his face, her other hand still stroking his spine. Could feel him turning his face into her touch, relaxing again almost immediately as she stroked his cheek and forehead.

Volatile. Deceptive calmness like a sea of gasoline, with the next spark never far away. All his emotions so very close to the surface.

She wondered at her own power. All she was doing was touching him, and yet it was enough to keep the spark from igniting him.

“It wasn’t easy,” he went on quietly, now volunteering information without her prompting him. “Wouldn’t have been possible at all if not for Maze’s demon blades. She hated doing it. Was cursing me the entire time.” His voice was low, almost monotone, the surface nearly unstirred while underneath, dark shapes were moving.

“I had to tell her how to do it,” he went on. “She’s not normally one for precise surgery, and I’m not normally one who minds a little pain. But that hurt like a son of a bitch. So I wanted her to make a clean job of it. Besides, I didn’t need to have her mutilate my first-rate body more than absolutely necessary.”

She smiled, amused, as always, at his vanity.

“So I told her. First, make the cut around the wing shoulder joint to free it. Get out of the way of the spray of blood as major blood vessels are severed. Then, sever the tendons. All of them. Then, dislocate the joint. It’s easy once all the tendons are cut. Then, cut open the joint capsule. Tear wing off. Repeat with the other wing.”

“Lucifer,” Chloe said, voice wavering. This was probably going to give her nightmares.

“I’m telling you this,” he went on, turning his head to look at her, “so you know what it is you’re dealing with. I’m a double amputee, if you will. But it was my decision, my own bloody free will. No need to pity me because of it. I wanted it.”

She nodded. “I got it.” She would not dwell on the details now and what they were going to do to her. That was between her and a bottle of wine when she was alone. This should be about him. “Do you ever regret it?”

He sighed. “Not up until now, actually. But not really, no. They come with a price I’m not willing to pay.”

She stroked his face, looking a question at him.

“The Throne of Hell,” he said succinctly. “I’d be able to go back down without dying if I had my wings back. Leave the earthly plane and enter the infernal one by flight. It’s what I’d be expected to do if Dad ever gave them back to me. And He’d send my siblings down here one by one to make me. I’d never know a moment of peace.”

“Well,” she admitted, “much as I’d like to meet the rest of your family properly, I must say I’d rather have you stay here with me, Lucifer. So I fully endorse this position.” She ran her fingertips over the area between his scars, lingering there as he reflexively arched his back and rounded his shoulders, and this time she thought she could feel the flex of an unfamiliar muscle in his back. “But it does seem a pity,” she added, distracted. “Do the scars hurt?”

He breathed in and out as he considered this. “Not the scars, no. They’re sensitive, but they don’t hurt. Not anymore. But there is a dull pain in my back sometimes, deeper inside. Then, it feels like some nerves and muscles still think that the wings should be there. Sometimes, when I move in a way that would hurt my wings, I feel that pain, even though there’s nothing there that can actually hurt. Quite confusing, really.”

She nodded. “Phantom pain.” She petted him between his scars again, making him flex his back and shoulders. “And this? Would this hurt the wings?”

He sighed. “Quite the opposite. That would be a stretch, and it feels, well, heavenly.” He heaved another sigh, arching, pushing his face into her hand.

She watched him, trying again to imagine him with his wings, his beautiful white wings, each one as long as he was tall, how they would stretch to both sides of him as she stroked him between them, one fanning out along the whole of the couch and the other almost touching the glass doors to the balcony. And oh, she would do it often.

But that would probably remain a fantasy. All she could do was stroke the ghost of them, and try to make up for lost time by stroking the parts of him that were still there.

Like his face. Gladly, Chloe gave him a few more minutes of feeling her hand on his face. It was getting late and she needed sleep, but she wasn’t finished here yet. He still needed to feel loved for a while longer, and she still hadn’t touched his scars.

So she did, carefully. Her fingertips veering off from his spine to travel across one scar, feeling the pebbled surface, the scar tissue harder to the touch than normal skin. Hotter.

He shuddered, exhaling sharply. A muscle underneath the scar twitched sharply.

Startled, she removed her hand, not wanting to hurt him.

“Don’t stop,” he whispered. “That felt amazing.”

Encouraged, she repeated the touch, more firmly this time, stroking her hand across the other scar. Again the twitch, but this time, she was prepared, both for it and for Lucifer’s reaction.

“Ohh,” the Devil breathed hot air into her neck, shuddering.

So she did it again, across both scars this time. The twitch repeated, less strongly. “You okay?” she asked.

“More than,” came his soft reply. “Who knew that not having sex could feel so ecstatic?”

“What does it feel like?” she asked, curious.

He didn’t reply immediately. “Like I’ve been having a double cramp in my back for six years without knowing, and now it’s gone,” he finally said.

When Chloe ran her hand across the scars for the fourth time, the muscles remained still.

Lucifer sighed, going completely limp, his face smashed into her shoulder. “Working your magic again,” he muttered, barely audible.

She smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. “I have no idea what I just did,” she said, “but I’m glad it helped.” Which was an understatement. Seeing him so relaxed, so happy, made her feel insanely proud. _ I did this. _

He purred, rolling onto his back to pull her into his arms. “For this, you can do whatever you desire with me wherever and whenever you desire to do so.”

She kissed his jaw, which was currently all she could reach. “Hmm. A blank check from the Devil himself. I must use it only for good.”

He snorted. “Well. I hope not only for good. That would be boring.”

She smiled, letting him have the last word as sleep pulled her under.


	3. Chapter 3

Chloe drifted awake as she felt something warm touch her shoulder.

Turning her head to that side, she blinked her eyes open. The gentle light of dawn illuminated the penthouse, streaming through the window walls surrounding Lucifer’s living room and making it easy for her to make out the dark head amidst the blankets and pillows surrounding her.

During the night, she had rolled onto her back away from Lucifer, whose body radiated so much heat that it usually became too much for her at one point or another. While she gladly sought out his warmth in the evenings to chase away the slight chill she often felt when going to bed, he tended to start hogging the blankets in the early morning when his supernatural heat was getting leeched away by the morning air, just when she would become overheated. This had clearly happened again today. And just now, the bundled-up Devil curled up next to her had shifted position to press his forehead against her shoulder.

From this angle, all she could see was his hair and the bridge of his nose. He looked adorable with his untamed curls sticking in all directions (and she would totally tell him so to his face as soon as he woke up). But what made her heart skip a beat was how he was seeking out her touch in his sleep.

She was loath to wake him, but neither was she able to just lie here and not touch him in return. Carefully, she placed one hand on his head, trying to keep the contact light, content to just feel the brush of his hair against her palm.

Long minutes passed while she lay, basking in the moment, happy with life and her place in it, sparing a thought for all the poor mortals who didn’t have a Devil in their beds right now to keep them warm and sated. A silly thought, and a petty one, but it did make her smile.

Then, something changed.

It actually took her a second to realize what it was - the touch of his forehead against her shoulder had somehow turned hotter, and she couldn’t feel Lucifer’s hair against her hand anymore. Opening her eyes, she immediately saw why. He had shifted into his Devil form in his sleep, and what her fingers felt now was his naked, burned-looking scalp.

This was momentous. To her knowledge, it had never happened before; an incredible show of trust from one who had known rejection and abandonment early in life, followed by relentless punishment, neglect, and contempt for the countless millennia that followed.

Chloe found herself holding her breath and keeping absolutely still. This was what she had wished for him; to feel absolutely safe with her. Safe enough to assume his true form whenever he felt like it, without fear of disgusting her or of being ridiculed. The last thing she wanted now was react somehow wrong and scare him into never doing it again.

Even so, it only lasted for a few seconds. Lucifer sighed, his hot breath brushing Chloe’s arm, as his angelic glamour reasserted itself. He mumbled something unintelligible, then moved his head to brush a kiss against her shoulder.

In response, she gently petted his unruly locks, and he tilted his head back, blinking his impossibly big dark eyes at her from under his tousled hair.

“I didn’t quite catch that,” she whispered, smiling at him, thinking that he had never looked more beautiful.

He purred, freeing one arm from his cocoon to drape it across her abdomen and putting his head on her shoulder, fairly branding her cool skin with his heat. “I said,” he began, and then he uttered something in a language Chloe didn’t understand. It sounded like nothing she had ever heard before - alien sounds, haunting, somehow ancient. Also, it rhymed.

“Nope,” she said, amused, “still not catching it.”

“‘I will this into being; thus it shall be’. It’s Enochian. The language of the angels.”

She didn’t need to have that explained to her. Completely floored, she gaped at him. This was Lucifer defying God’s machinations, choosing to play the part he wanted to play despite all the doubts. Choosing  _ her _ . Willing their ‘thing’ to be real.

“It’s an ancient spell,” he went on, apparently interpreting her silence as incomprehension. “I used it to light the stars, back when… well.”

“Lucifer,” she whispered, shimmying down to be able to kiss his lips.

He sighed, freeing his other arm to pull her close. “Don’t know why I said it, really. I certainly don’t need spells to light you up.”

She smiled, letting him have this deflection. Neither of them dealt with deep feelings very well, after all. “You’re still the most romantic Devil I know.”

He chuckled at that, another rare gift.

The soft sound turned into a purr when she began to stroke his face and back, no longer bothering to avoid his scars after what had happened yesterday, feeling the heat of his skin trapped underneath the blanket; almost as hot as his Devil form would feel.

Speaking of… “You turned into the Devil in your sleep for just a second there earlier,” she said.

He twisted to look at her, one hand holding hers in place on his face, one dark eye blinking at her between two of her fingers. “I did? Didn’t realize. Sorry.”

“No, no. Don’t be sorry. You’re allowed to do that, you know. If it feels good for you. Like, you know, putting on something comfortable to wear.” She sighed, gathering her thoughts. “You don’t need anyone’s permission, Lucifer, but just in case: of course you can assume your true form whenever you want to. I won’t mind.”

The single eye he was looking at her with blinked twice.

“I’m not expressing this well,” she added. “I would consider it an honor. You trusting me like that. It meant a lot when you did it just then.”

He blinked again. “You can’t prefer that to this, though,” he protested, pointing at himself.

“I don’t,” she admitted, “especially not now.” Her hand carded through his hair, mussing it up even more. “You’re looking so cute that it’s doing things to me.”

“Really?” She could feel his smile against her skin. “Well. Another entry in my file on ‘techniques for the seduction of the Detective in the precinct’. And it isn’t even five AM yet. This day is already off to an excellent start.”

He was incorrigible, and she loved him so much. “You’ll never manage to seduce me in the precinct, Lucifer.”

“Careful with the ‘never, Detective. You also said you’d ‘never’ sleep with me, remember?” He settled back against her, enjoying her touch. After a while, he said, “You really wouldn’t mind?”

“No,” she said, understanding immediately what he was asking.

“It doesn’t scare you?”

“No.”

He raised his head to look at her. “Not even if I sprang it on you without warning?”

She pretended to think about that one. “Well, then I suppose I’d think, ‘oh, the Devil’s come to get me’. Immediately followed by, ‘are we taking my car or his?’.”

He snorted. “That is really hard to believe, you know.”

“Lucifer. You already did spring it on me without warning. I just woke up to find the Devil in my bed. Well, on your couch. Did you hear me squeal in terror? No. Did I go for my gun? No. Instead, I had to actively restrain myself from waking you up because I wanted nothing more than hug the stuffing out of you for trusting me like that.”

He held her gaze for a minute. Then, as if calling her bluff, he shifted, without warning.

True to her word, she felt no trace of fear or revulsion. His Devil face was so familiar to her by now that she didn’t have to work on any of it; not on her smile, nor on the ease with which she ran her hands over his burned-looking skin and pulled him closer to her, welcoming him gladly even when he was looking like this.

He blew hot air across her naked chest in a sigh. “You really are a miracle, Chloe Jane Decker.”

She decided to let that slide, even though she thought that she was showing common decency, nothing more. Instead, she went back to stroking and petting him, keeping her touch lighter than before but still not avoiding his scars, wondering how long he’d be able to stand it this time.

The scars felt the same as before, Chloe realized.

Well, what had she expected? Of course his skin wouldn’t be scorched there; he had still had his wings when he Fell. They would have burned, along with the rest of him, but the place where they had been attached to his body would only have become scarred much, much later. Many millennia later, when he had his wings cut off.

Lucifer shuddered under her touch, groaning, but exposed himself to more nevertheless, pulling the blanket away to grant her access and revealing his naked body to her view in the process.

Even though his human body was perfectly familiar to her by now, she had never seen all of the Devil before. The sight of the red, paper-like skin all over his form was just as painful to bear for her as seeing it on his face was. No, even more painful in fact, because it was visual proof of how much he must have suffered when he Fell, first burning up during the Fall, and in the lake of fire afterwards. He often said he was invulnerable; yet he had obviously suffered this terrible damage. How bad must the torment have been to scorch him so much, injure him so much that he still had not healed, not after all these millennia?

And how was she supposed to keep her eyes from welling up in sympathy; how could she keep herself from wrapping him up in her arms and hold his inhumanly warm body close, from wishing with all her heart to be able to take away all this pain and suffering, and soak it up into herself instead? And why should she not silently rant at God to  _ come down here and heal him right this instant, dammit _ ?

“You didn’t deserve this, Lucifer,” she forced out, running her hands over his smooth skin everywhere she could reach as if trying to erase his torment by touch and sheer force of will.

He shuddered in her arms, gasping hot air into her neck in fast panting breaths, his body twisting and writhing slowly against her, clearly overwhelmed. And she wasn’t much better. Closer, she needed to have him closer, needed to touch all of him at once, share her whole skin with him somehow, but no matter how tight she held him, he still wasn’t  _ close enough _ ….

It was only when she could feel his hard heat all around her and inside of her, and when the pain of compassion gave way to searing pleasure, that the insane need for closeness eased. They clung to one another, now for different reasons, his red burned skin forming a sharp contrast to the paleness and wholeness of hers. She gasped with the buildup, kissing and licking his warm skin wherever her lips were touching it, feeling the soft hot brands of his lips and tongue against her until finally their mouths found each other, and she was kissing the Devil, tongues and bodies finding the rhythm that had always seemed to be there waiting, deep and hot and hard, and nothing had ever felt so right --

\-- tumbling over the edge together --

\-- into visceral, shivering heat --

\-- into a whiteout… literally.

The light was blinding, and it took Chloe a moment to find its source. It dimmed as soon as Lucifer closed his eyes.

Chloe blinked away an afterimage of twin sources of blue-white radiance to find him, still in his Devil form, on his back, eyes closed, lids illuminated from within.

“Lucifer,” she gasped, trying to catch her breath. “Lucifer.”

As he blinked his eyes open, she could just see the last faint glow of white fade within them, leaving behind his dark red irises. “Chloe,” he said weakly. “Are you… what…?”

She laughed brokenly, because nothing else seemed to quite cover it. Working her mouth for a bit, she finally was coordinated enough to say, “Exactly. What just happened?”

He shook his head, shifting back into his human form.

“Your eyes were glowing white,” she informed him, voice wavering.

That earned her a surprised glance. “That’s not possible. He wouldn’t.”

“Who wouldn’t what?”

“My father. Give me back my grace.”

She said nothing, merely looking at him. In her considered opinion, that was exactly what should have happened. Hadn’t he proven himself enough?

“But maybe it wasn’t His doing at all,” Lucifer went on. “Maybe it was yours.”

“But… I didn’t do anything. I don’t even have that kind of power.” All she had done was wish really, really hard, and not for him getting back his grace. She hadn’t even known that was a thing. No, what she had wished for him was getting healed.

A thought came to her. “But maybe I didn’t do it alone, whatever it was. Maybe we did it together.”

Lucifer frowned. “I didn’t do anything,” he said, unconsciously repeating Chloe’s exact words.

“Yeah, you did. You recited a spell, right? Maybe that did something. And then when we, you know...”

“... Had sex…”

She hadn’t wanted to call it that. ‘Having sex’ sounded much too ordinary for what they had shared. But for lack of a better word… “... Had sex, maybe that triggered it.”

He looked at her, smiling. “It doesn’t work like that, but, who knows? All bets are off anyway when you’re involved.”

Apparently so. “So, how do you feel?”

He frowned again. “Fine. Great, actually.” His frown smoothed out and turned into an impish grin. “Ready to face the day and seduce you in the precinct.”

She leaned over him, anchored both her hands in his tousled hair, and tugged gently. “Never.”

His grin turned devilish. “Game bloody on, Detective.”


End file.
